Twilight Madness
by DawningSerpent
Summary: If only she had known how far he was prepared to go, maybe then she'd have told someone... But she hadn't, and now it was up to her to make sure that he didn't get sucked up and shattered by the madness he'd thrown himself into... WARNING:SLASH HPSS


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Disclaimer: I do not, have not, and will not ever own Harry Potter and co. That honor belongs to the goddess among mortals, J.K. Rowling. 

Author's note: So in case you haven't noticed, this is my first fanfic, so I have absolutely no idea what I'm doing. I adore constructive criticism, and would appreciate any suggestions you have on where I should go with this story (if anywhere at all) because I only have a very vague outline in my head right now, which is subject to change every second of the day. Also I would be really, really happy if someone would be willing to beta my work, because at the moment everything that is put up here is straight from my head with only my very poor proofreading skills to help it stay afloat. Thank you!!!!

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Twilight Madness

Prologue

He did it. After six months of obsessive studying and planning, he finally did it. Even though she had tried her hardest to discourage him, imploring, questioning, rationalizing, screaming. He still did it.

She hadn't known exactly what he had been planning. All she had known was that whatever he was going to do, it couldn't be good. So she watched him constantly with worried eyes, trying to discourage or distract him whenever she could. She prayed that he would move past this obsession eventually. Worrying every night that he wouldn't and trying even harder to make him the next day.

But in the end it didn't matter. It was done. There was nothing she could do now but try to minimize the damage as much as possible. And even that wouldn't help much.

It was too late to tell anyone. The time to speak up had passed the instant the potion went down his throat, if not before then. She didn't know how she'd missed the warning signs. Somehow he had tricked her into thinking that he was alright, or at least, that he was getting better. She'd believed him, despite seeing him sneak off at all hours of the night, despite the tense, pensive look that stole across his face when his masks dropped for a few moments, despite the constant avoidances and muttered excuses across the breakfast table as she demanded for the hundredth time to know where he had been for entire weekends at a time. Despite everything, she had _wanted_ to believe that he was alright, that the sneaking off was just the normal pranks the boys played, that the tenseness was due to homework and the upcoming NEWTs, that he really had just been tired for an entire weekend or just needed time to think for five weekends in a row. And because of that belief, things had become irreversible.

If only she had known. If only she had understood how far he had been from moving on, how much his obsession had been growing in the time spent alone, thinking. If only she had known how far he had been prepared to go to fulfill his obsession. Maybe then she might have told someone. Maybe then this could have been prevented.

But she hadn't known, so she didn't tell. And now it was too late. Telling anyone now would do more harm than good. They would all be so confused and angry. There would be too much frustration, to many questions, too much accusation. No understanding, just condemnation. That was the way the system worked after all. It was too much to ask for them to try to think about it from a different perspective. Hell, she was having difficulty thinking about it from a different perspective, and she was his best friend! No, there would be no sympathy or support, not even from the one man everything revolved around, and that was the one thing which could and would literally break his spirit. So there would be no informing anyone else. She couldn't risk it, not with the way things were now. Hopefully, in the future there might be someone else willing to try to understand. But for right now, she couldn't let the callous, confused judgments and disapproval of his friend and family destroy him.

So it was up to her. She had to support and take care of him. She was the only one who knew, and she was the only one who could make sure that he didn't get sucked up and shattered by the self-destructive madness he'd thrown himself into.

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Hermione finally lifted her gaze from the book in her lap. She'd been staring at it for the past hour, and despite her brow furrowed in concentration, she had yet to turn the page. But no one noticed. After all, after they acknowledged her presence, everyone basically ignored her. She was a constant fixture in the common room, sitting in the shadows by the fireplace, constantly studying or with her head in a book. So caught up were they in their trivial problems of who was dating whom, what the next transfiguration test was going to be like, and where one was going on the next Hogsmeade weekend, that they never paid any attention to her. And so they all failed to notice as a steely new, determined light entered her eyes as she silently watched her closest friend, a shadow of a smile on his face as Ron made another joke about something or other. She would do anything to protect him, and nothing would stop her. If she had to assist or destroy the man at the center of this or every one around them, she would not let him get hurt. By _anyone…_

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So what do you think? Love it, hate it, want throw it to the rabid dust bunnies under my bed? 

There's a wonderful little button right there for you to push. :D

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